Luminescent
by farfetched4
Summary: Gold always tends to talk at Silver while he keeps Silver company after school, but on a visit to a fair, he gets something back. Gold/Silver or PreciousMetalShipping. Possibly AU.


You don't look at him. You rarely look at him, of course you don't - most of the time he's being idiotic and it warrants no need to pay attention to him. He talks whether you listen or not, and since you figure it's generally not worth listening to, you don't.  
>He comes around every day after school, finding you whether you're in the library, at your flat or walking home, and always finds himself sitting with you for the whole evening. Sometimes he persuades himself to do his homework, but mostly he takes delight in bugging you, telling all about his day, what his (our, he always proclaims) friends have been up to.<p>

You're never quite sure why you let him in, aside from when he barges in and doesn't leave in which you can fully blame him.

The past few days, in the few monologues you've had half an ear in, he's been talking endlessly about the festival that's currently at the next town over, with stalls, games and a variety of other things. You think it sounds dull, but most things sound dull to you, and you don't bother mentioning it because you can already hear the response ("But _Siiiiilveeer_, I wanna go!" Gold would say, pouting as he whined about it.)

Besides, he seems content telling your half an ear about it, how he'd love to go but his other friends won't go with him because they're busy, apparently the last day is tomorrow, then it's a whole year or more until it comes back. You almost detect that he wants something from you, but it sounds stupid, so you don't ask.

The next day, there is a gap between you getting to your flat and starting your homework, and him getting there. It seems strange until you see him out of his usual school uniform, dressed up in festival gear... You think you get it, that he's come around to show off that he's going before he actually visits the festival. Not, you add hurriedly in your mind, that you care. If he wants to go without you, and even with someone else, that's not your problem. You completely ignore the slight chasm that the thought opens as he saunters past you into the dimly-lit hall and puts his hands on his hips, glaring at you.

("I'm going to the festival," he says, defiantly, "and you're coming with me.") You raise an eyebrow, not admitting that you're slightly confused. You just don't understand why he would want you in particular to accompany him to the festival, unless he's so oblivious that he can't see that you'll ruin it for him.

Perhaps, you speculate snidely, he knows the throwing talent of yours, and your fantastic aim. (Two skills you weren't even aware you had, because you don't have them) He grins at you, marches to your room and flings some clothes out for you to wear. You almost decide to be obstinate, but persuade yourself to humour him, with the thought that you can cope with Gold for one night. (Like every evening after school, and some deep part of you whispers traitorously that it's not coping if you enjoy it, but you don't particularly want to explore that right now (or ever))

Of course, you choose different clothes to the ones Gold has laid out for you just to be difficult, pick up a wallet and the key, following Gold out of the apartment. He monologues to the bus station, and while the two of you are on the bus, although since you have absolutely _nothing_ better to do, you listen to him, even giving some input occasionally. (It's a conversation if you reply to things)

You arrive, and it turns out to be more of a fair than a festival, with fairy lights hung somewhat quaintly around the entry way. (Since when did you use the word 'quaint'? It sounds more like Gold than yourself-) You're looking his way a bit, and even in the dark you see his eyes light up, a (proper) grin spreading across his face (It strikes you that Gold is amazing, really) and he turns to you, grabbing your arm to pull you towards the entrance. When the person on the desk asks for the money for an entry ticket, Gold looks at you sheepishly. (From the lonely corner of your heart) You sigh, and hand the appropriate money over, receiving two wristbands, one of which he swiftly takes, thanking you profusely before pulling you off towards the helter-skelter, even though you feel too old for this. (You never had much of a childhood) Still, he leads you to it, and the supervisor hands you separate mats because you're both a little big for such small mats anyway. His eyes glimmer happily, and you sense that, in that split-second, you would have followed him anyway, just to see him so purely happy (It doesn't quite occur to you why it's so special, if he's happy all the time) even if he hadn't grabbed your sleeve to pull you to the top.

As you slide down after Gold, you feel a lightness of heart that you identify as being 'happy'. Perhaps you're having fun, but you don't quite know. You smile very slightly, an alien expression to your face, which is so used to a smirk, but it feels nice. Gold doesn't comment on it when you regroup at the bottom, but he grins and begs to go on it again. You remind him of the wristbands he wears, so he laughs and launches off to try the slide again, after he makes sure you'll stay put.

For some reason, you do.  
>Once he comes off it and dusts himself off, he quickly suggests another activity. The night slowly draws in as the two of you gradually work your way around, mostly with you following Gold's suggestions. It eventually ends up with you sitting on a more secluded bench, Gold happily snacking on some pink-sugary heart-attack-on-a-stick that appears to be massively over-priced (In your opinion) but for once, you keep it to yourself. (Somehow, it seems like Gold <em>needed<em> this, a break from normal routine, although there's nothing really that tells you so, it's more of a vibe. You've never understood 'vibes', but it's the closest you'll ever get right now, so you lessen any caustic comments you might have made. Gold even seems relieved.)

"Silver..." You flicker your eyes towards him, sat next to you on the bench. He traces an imaginary line in the sky with the stick of his now-finished candy-cloud, looking almost distracted. You make a small hum to show you're listening. "Thanks for coming." You raise an eyebrow, as Gold sounds more serious than usual. You were expecting him to say something benign, like what he was drawing in the sky, or something about the stars.  
>"It's fine."<br>He stays silent for a long while, with a smile (that portrays nothing, you realise that it's empty - some of his smiles are like this, and you finally notice that those smiles that have a hint of wrongness are actually the ones you'd like to rip off his face, not the genuine ones), staring at the sky. (Later, you might see that he was gathering courage)

"Silver?" He inquires again, quieter. He doesn't wait for a response. "Do you hate me?"

"Of course I do." It's an automatic response. Those two sentences have featured in so many of your few conversations, that they mean virtually nothing. You thought.

Gold hesitates, twirling the candy stick around in his fingers.  
>"S-seriously?"<br>Suddenly the atmosphere seems so much heavier to you. You turn to look at him, in your confusion, and truly take in his features. The flick of hair that escapes his perpetually-worn cap. Trusting black eyes. An always smiling face (not always happy, though.) He breaks his staring contest with the sky to look at you, eyes pleading for an honest answer to his honest question.

You can't bring yourself to lie.  
>"No."<br>"No?" he echoes, presumably wanting something of more substance from you.  
>"No." So you solidly state it again, hoping that Gold will let it lie. You don't really want to run, but the desire to do so is rising before he can ask anything else.<p>

(You realise that you're still facing him after so many years of facing away. It all seems so open, yet so closed; you have no idea what might happen.)

(He's closer than ever, emotionally, to you. Physically, he's been closer (but Gold appears to be closing the gap, inch by excruciatingly slow inch) yet as you watch him, it feels like he's bearing his soul to you)

(By the time you realise that you're matching his motion, you're two inches away from him and your brain shuts down on you.)

Gold kisses you.  
>You can't think, but your body reacts anyway, closing your eyes and moving your lips against his, barely aware of his hands tangled in the ends of your hair and yours at the nape of his neck, subconsciously pulling him closer to you. (it's all you've ever wanted, and denied yourself for so, so long)<p>

You break for air and find that you don't _want_ to think, complicated processes of thoughts of the future, where exactly this started and where this will end, what will happen between those two points. You open your eyes and find him, (so close, you can feel his breath slide gently over your face) bewildered and shocked. It's like he didn't know what would happen either, but he stares at you, completely open and unguarded, unsure of anything.

You smile. (Properly. A full smile. It feels good.)

Somehow, it breaks into both your thought processes, restarting life again. Gold blushes heavily, crying a small 'Ah!' and looks away, slowly withdrawing his hands, lingering with some reluctance. Before he can fully remove himself from your personal space, you ensnare him again. (Your brain urges you to do so, get across your point so he simply cannot misconstrue it, because you don't think you could cope if he left now. It's like he has had your heart in his hand this whole time, you just didn't notice, but he can have it. You thought you'd mind, but in fact, you want this so badly now it'd hurt for him not to have it)

You break apart again, but he leans his forehead against yours, grinning. He twirls a strand of your red hair around his finger, apparently lost for words, but you don't need them. He's happy (and that all you want).

When you finally leave, with lights flickering off around you, running to catch the final bus home, your hands are entwined.  
>(And you speculate that in the moment he spoke least, you both moved the most.)<p>

* * *

><p>I don't profess to know these characters really, so there might be some characterization faults, and I'm not quite sure what possessed me to write second person, but hopefully it worked. Let me know what you think?<p> 


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